


Whump Bingo: "Why Didn't You Just Call Me?"

by taylor_tut



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti)
Genre: Gen, Injury, Whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-30
Updated: 2019-12-30
Packaged: 2021-02-27 12:36:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,037
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22027198
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/taylor_tut/pseuds/taylor_tut
Summary: A short fic requested on my tumblr. Ben and Eddie patch Richie up after he shows up injured to the hotel.
Comments: 5
Kudos: 53





	Whump Bingo: "Why Didn't You Just Call Me?"

When Richie stumbled into the hotel, everyone’s heads turned. They’d had to order dinner without him when he hadn’t showed up in time to put in his opinion, but Mike had told them not to worry—Richie’s car was still in the parking lot, after all, so there was no way he’d gone far. It was natural to want to look around the city he’d grown up in but all but forgotten, after all, and he’d probably just went for a walk. God knows that they all had needed to clear their heads after the events of the past few days. 

So, Ben had tried his best not to worry. He’d calmed Eddie down when he suggested that they go looking for him in case something was wrong, even though he didn’t think it was such a bad idea. 

“He’s only been gone 45 minutes,” Bill had dismissed. “We sh-sh-shouldn’t freak out just yet. Give him at least an hour, th-then we’ll call.” 

So, when an hour had gone by, Ben had sent a text. 

“hey, man, just wondering where you are.”

No reply.

Eddie had called and left a voicemail when he hadn’t gotten through, but Richie hadn’t responded to that, either. 

“Hey, Richie,” Bev greeted lightly, kindly. “Where have you been?” The question was conversational, but Ben knew that they’d all been worried, even suspicious not being able to get ahold of him, and he was glad that Bev, sweet, patient Bev, had beat someone like Eddie to the punch of inquiring about his whereabouts. 

Richie didn’t reply. Instead, he staggered two steps to the side and hit the wall of the hallway, then slid down it, leaving a line of blood behind him. Ben was on his feet with his heart beating in his ears in seconds flat, dropping to his knees beside Richie and forcing him to sit up a little so he could see his back. His black shirt had hidden the blood but up close, Ben could see the rip in his shirt that parted around a long, deep gash. Richie was trembling as he held him up, sitting almost cupped around him to both look at the wound and try to keep Richie from passing out. 

“What the fuck happened, Richie?” Ben asked. “Eddie, he needs—”

“I have liquid sutures in my bag,” he said. “Hopefully it’s not so deep that we’ll need to give him real ones.”

As Eddie ran upstairs to retrieve his medical kit, Ben shrugged off his jacket and gave it to Richie, partially to stop the blood-loss-induced shivering and partially to provide a barrier between him and the wall so he could lie back without getting blood everywhere.

“Ben,” Richie said, his eyes wide and panicked. “Pennywise, he—I stabbed him; he sliced me open.”

“Jesus,” Ben muttered. “It’s okay. You’re safe now and Eddie is gonna patch you up.”

A ghost of a smirk played at his lips. “Spaghetti’s playin’ doctor?” 

“I’m ‘PLAYING’ ‘don’t let Richie Tozier bleed to death on the carpet,’” Eddie snapped. However, his tone softened as he lifted Richie’s blood-soaked shirt to see the flayed skin underneath with a wince. “Where did this happen?”

“By the school.”

Eddie paled. “I can’t believe you made it all the way back here without collapsing.”

Richie showed his palms: bleeding, dirty, and scraped. “I didn’t.”

“Why didn’t you just call me?” Eddie asked. “I—or any of us—would have come and got you.”

Richie didn’t reply to that. 

Reaching for a small bottle of Neosporin from his bag, Eddie handed it to Ben and continued working on his back. 

“Get those cuts cleaned up,” he commanded in an authoritative but patient voice, calmer than the Eddie he remembered from childhood, if only by a little. “This is going to sting.” The warning was barely out and certainly not processed by Richie’s foggy mind before Eddie was pinching the skin of his back together and applying the liquid suture in thin, even strokes. 

“Fuck!” Richie squealed, and Eddie rolled his eyes while Ben squeezed his shoulder comfortingly. 

“Deal with it,” Eddie snapped. 

“Don’t listen to him,” Ben said. “If it hurts, you can say it hurts.”

Richie took a deep, steadying breath, but didn’t say anything else as Ben wiped the dirt and gravel out of his palms and applied antibiotic cream. He was in and out a bit through the procedure, sometimes talkative and restless and anxious from pain, and others, barely able to hold his head up. 

“The liquid shit isn’t holding,” Eddie lamented frustratedly. “The cut is bleeding too much and I can’t get it dry for long enough to stick.’

Bev was already pulling up a map on her phone. “The urgent care clinic is open for another hour,” she announced. 

It was alarmingly familiar, Ben thought. They’d gone through the same motions when she’d fallen off her bike and needed stitches in the summer of the senior year of high school—Eddie had tried to close it with gauze and liquid bandage, but it had just been too much of a mess, and it hadn’t worked then, either. 

“Alright, big guy,” Ben said, shaking Richie lightly to rouse him and motioning for Mike to support him under his other arm so they could get him to the car. “Let’s go get you some stitches.”

“And the good drugs?” Richie asked hopefully. Eddie rolled his eyes. 

“Lidocaine, maybe,” Eddie replied. “You don’t need anything stronger. You’re fine.”

Richie frowned. “Doesn’t feel fine,” he complained, but he was able to remain mostly conscious as they hoisted him up and walked him out to the parking lot and to his own car. Ben took the keys as soon as Richie dug them out of his pocket. 

“I can drive,” Richie objected, and Eddie outright laughed. 

“Yeah, not happening,” he declined. “I’m driving. We’re only taking your car so we don’t get your blood all over mine.”

Richie winced, but didn’t say a word as Ben helped him into the back seat. 

“We’ll get you patched up in no time,” Ben promised. It was nice to, for once, have a problem that they could fix, and Ben was eager to do so. 


End file.
